by Kenya Wright
Frankly, I was just in the moment, trying to take it all in and not lose myself in the insanity.
“You have nothing to say?” Kissing me, he wrapped his scent, his hard, muscular body around me. “Let’s try it. We would have fun.”
“I want to. I’m just a little scared.”
“It could be good. Fuck, Yaz.” He devoured my lips. “It could be more than good.”
I whispered against his mouth. “How good?”
“So good, you’d have a book to write and I’d have something special to think about in my worst times and paint forever.” He grabbed the back of my thighs and lifted me up onto the hood.
I shrieked, and he captured me in his arms. I spread my legs, unable to control my body anymore. He was too close, and I wanted him. It was all I’d thought about for the past days. It was all that played in my dreams.
“Talk to me, Yaz.”
“I’m just trying to make sense of it all.”
“You need some convincing?” He pressed his erection between my legs. Even with his jeans on, I could feel the thickness between the material.
Before I could respond, he gently pushed me down and had me lying on the car.
“What are you doing?” I panted.
“You know what I’m doing.” Inch by inch, he lifted my dress up my thighs. “Instead of being an asshole to you in my studio, I should’ve tasted you.”
I shivered, stifling the moan that wanted to flee my throat.
“I should’ve licked that pussy all night. Fuck conversation.” He lowered, shoved my dress to my waist, and ripped my panties away.
Gasping, I tried to rise, but it was lackluster.
It didn’t matter anyway. Hawk spread my legs wider. Heat pulsed through my blood. Panting, I couldn’t even catch my breath. I looked above me as the stars sparkled and hovered over us. Next came the soft, searing touch of his lips. His mouth lingered, drifting to the inside of my thigh. “Damn, you smell so good.”
His warm breath skittered against my skin. He leaned further between my legs, the feel of his body heavy and sweet wherever it pressed.
Another kiss, higher, where the skin was more sensitive. Lusty sensations washed over me. Slowly, his hands eased beneath my panties and slid them down my legs. He moved higher, his palms sliding over my hips and stomach, his lips following and intensifying every sensation. “Can I have you?”
“Yes.” Gasping, I sank back, giving up on considering any logic. My body went weak.
In a haze of excitement and lust, I closed my eyes and drowned in intense pleasure of his touch. I wanted it so badly that nothing else mattered.
“I’m going to kiss your little pearl and show you how sweet my mouth can be.” With his hands and mouth, he made love to me.
A dark current of desire rushed through me, dissolving my bones in liquid fire. He stroked my sex with his thumb.
The heat of his breath came next and then the pressure of his mouth opening against me…a hot stroke of his tongue, a gentle tug with his mouth. He lapped at my pussy in a perfect rhythm, teasing with luscious kisses to my clit.
“You’re wet for me.” He pulled my legs over his shoulders and licked between my folds, soft and provocative laps of hot velvet against my sensitive flesh. My chest heaved as he circled my clit with the tip of his tongue, nudging my throbbing bud. I couldn’t deal with the pleasure of it all as I moved my hips.
“Hawk, please.”
He dined, sliding his tongue deep.
“Oh Hawk.” Uncontrollably, I tunneled my fingers into his hair and rocked into him, forcing his tongue deeper. Such a pro, he flicked my clit and made me groan even louder. My leg flexed against his back, urging him closer.
“Damn it, you taste so good.” Growling, he sucked my aching bud.
How?
It was the only word that kept running through my head. How did he know what would make me crazy? How did he know how to lick me just right and make me go wild? How could I ever walk away from him again?
My body shook.
He moaned. “How does it feel, baby?”
“So good. I’m going to come all over you.”
“Show me.” He rubbed his tongue over and over my pussy, working his mouth. His hands cupped my ass, caressing and urging me onto his tongue as he thrust it inside me. There was skill in the greedy way he owned me, and there was this unmistakable sense that he would worship me forever.
“Oh, fuck, Hawk.” The orgasm rose in my core.
“Cum for me, baby.” He circled my pussy with his lips, massaging the bud with the tip of his tongue.
“So close.” The orgasm roared through me in a sweltering wave.
“There we go.”
“Hawk,” I cried out, pumping my hips mindlessly into his mouth, lost to the primal connection between us. Hawk held me as my legs weakened, tonguing my quivering flesh until the last tremor faded.
Then he ripped open his jeans and freed the most gorgeous cock I’d ever seen.
“Do you know how long I’ve been thinking of this moment?” He positioned that thick length at the opening of my sex.
“Wait.” I rose from the hood. “We need protection.”
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath and dragged himself away. His muscles flexed as he rushed to the passenger side of his car and rummaged through it. A click sounded. It must’ve been his glove box. In seconds, he raced back like a mad man, tearing away the packet and putting the condom on in seconds.
“I’m glad I let Brett drive my car last night. Anytime he does, he leaves condoms inside.”
“Lucky us,” I whispered as I tried to pull up his shirt.
He stopped my hand. His gaze went intense as he captured my lips.
I wanted him inside of me.
He wrapped his arms around me and cupped my ass, lifting me up a little and guiding his cock inside of me. The bulbous head kissed my lips and didn’t thrust further.
It wasn’t enough.
“Give it to me, Hawk. Now.”
His gaze seared my eyes. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.” I lifted my head.
“I’ll try.”
“I know.”
Our lips found each other. Our tongues tangled. And then he was pushing his cock inside, sinking down, deep into my body.
Jesus.
When he took me, he did it like no other. Sensually slow and dreamlike. Piercing me with his thickness and driving my orgasm over the edge. I rocked with him, humping as he thrust and stroked my insides.
Each plunge of his cock stripped me. My pussy clasped onto that meaty length, clutching him, never wanting to let go. Passion licked my clit, continuously fueled by that persistent thumb of his.
I whimpered as he shoved into me. My pussy battled with accommodating him.
“Goddamn, you feel so good.”
I met his powerful thrusts as he stroked with his thickness. The whole time, the car rocked under us. He rolled his hips and drove his cock into me harder. “You saved me.”
A shuddering moan left me.
“Fuck, Yaz.” His head fell back as he gasped my name and drove us both toward ecstasy.
“Oh Hawk, I’m coming.”
“Yes, baby, cum for me.”
I came hard and then he shuddered against me, that huge body rocking around me as he continued to shock that length inside of me. “I’ll never get enough.”
His cock jerked inside me. And then he let go of his control, hammering into me.
“Fuck,” I shrieked, orgasming again. Or it had never stopped. I was unprepared with what he would do to me. Now, all I could do was ride the pleasure until it stopped.
More sensations rocketed through. The world spun around us. My cries mingled with his loud, hoarse ones. His gaze burned molten with knowledge and satisfaction and promise.
“Yes, Yaz, yes,” he moaned.
I groaned in lust with him, falling over the edge with no intention of being saved. Together, we floated in ho
t passion, our moans filling the air. The car rocked as I fell back onto it and he lay on top of me. Our bodies molded together. We became one energy of erotic lust, exploding into each other. My head went dizzy. My heart hammered to the rhythm of our sensual movements.
Then we came together again, hard and groaning so loud I was sure everyone in the Keys heard us.
Never had I felt so blown away, so utterly consumed.
“I want more,” I whispered as we lay in each other’s arms, exhausted and full of pleasure.
“Good.” He kissed me. “I want more too.”
Chapter 14
Hawk
In the darkness, I sat naked inside a huge cage made of bleach-white bones. A broken purple moon hovered above. On the right side of the cage, a line of women sat on their knees with bloody tears dangling from their eyes. Their teeth fell out one at time. On the walls, severed testicles hung near razors and sharpened knives. More bones scattered the earth.
Shaking, I prayed for my life.
God never came. Just Lisa, cackling like an evil witch as she shoved a spoonful of dog food between the bars. A chill slithered into my pores and froze my body.
“No!” I screamed. “Not again!”
“Any other woman will be a miserable replacement of me.” Lisa laughed and flung a lit cigarette at me. “She’ll smell me on your skin.” She slashed at my chest with a rusted knife. “She’ll look in your eyes and always find me gazing back at her.”
A stack of pictures appeared in our hands. She slung them at me.
I looked at them. They were all old photos of us, happy and together.
“Eat them,” she ordered. “I want to move inside of you. I want to be devoured.”
“No!”
I woke up to soft, warm arms wrapping around my waist. Chest to breast. Skin against skin. The nightmare faded like wisps of smoke as I slowly became aware of everything.
Yaz was holding me to her small body, her breath warm against my cheek. “You’re with me, Hawk. No one else is here.”
I opened my eyes to the darkness around us and the scent of her skin. Moonlight lit the room, and the sounds of the beach through the open window soothed me.
“It’s me. No one else.” Yaz slid over me, a silky, moving shadow. She slanted her mouth over mine and kissed me slow and deep. “You’re here. Say it.”
I shivered in her arms. “I’m here.”
I slid my hands down her curves, wanting her body to drive the nightmare further away.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
“No.” I ran my fingers through her hair, wishing I could see her beautiful face in front of me. “I just want to focus on you.”
I slid down and nuzzled between her breasts. I held them, and the nipples hardened against my hands. She gasped as I covered one nipple with my mouth and sucked. Her moan echoed through my bedroom.
She caressed my chest.
What?
I froze right there. It was that moment I realized my shirt wasn’t on. Yaz must’ve taken it off. When and how? I got off her and rolled onto my back, trying to remember how we’d gotten to my bedroom in the first place.
I didn’t forget the sex outside. It had been worth the huge dent on my car.
But when did my shirt go off? Did she see the scars?
“What’s wrong?” She rose, rolled to her side, and lay on my chest.
I tensed. “Nothing.”
How many years had it been since I’d let anyone be this close to me without my shirt on?
“How did we get here?” I asked.
“You drove us back.”
As she said it, the visual hit my head. In that moment, I remembered I’d wanted her some more and begged her to come back to my bedroom.
Yaz continued, “When we got to the house, Brett opened the door and yelled at you while you carried me upstairs like a madman, talking about police and money and hairy hippies.”
I nodded. “Okay. That memory’s coming back too. Why do I keep picturing a bottle of whiskey?”
“Brett brought it in, when he came back to apologize for yelling at you. And then the three of us had shots...lots of them. And then...he brought out another bottle.”
“I don’t remember the second bottle.”
“You passed out after we finished that one, and then he carried you to bed and closed the door. I followed and figured you were hot, so I took off your clothes.”
Dread always hit me the first time anyone saw the scars. I closed my eyes, glad she couldn’t see the uncomfortable expression I must’ve been wearing on my face. “And?”
“And then I turned off the lights and passed out next to you.” She caressed the top of my chest.
I bit my lip as her fingers got close to a scar, one that had long since healed but was still raised, rough, and weirdly sensitive. It was the smiley faced o that Lisa had drawn over my heart. But she didn’t touch it. Instead, those soft fingers traveled down the ribboned path of scars going to my navel.
Part of me wanted to stop her. The other part felt relieved she wasn’t disgusted.
She lifted her hand. “What’s wrong? You went stiff.”
“It’s been a minute since someone’s spent the night.”
“Oh...should I have left?”
“No. Never that. It’s just.” I cleared my throat. “I don’t like taking off my shirt.”
“Because of the scars?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“And you don’t want me to touch them, either?”
I rubbed my face with both of my hands and rose, switching the light on. “Why would you want to?”
Maybe, she didn’t get a good view of them.
I turned to her, sure that she would twist her face in disgust. Everyone else did. Maybe she’d been too drunk when she first took my shirt off. Perhaps, she hadn’t really saw what everyone else did?
Ribbons of damaged flesh decorated my abs. Lisa told me that no one would love me and that she’d make sure of it. She’d been right. Usually, women turned their heads in horror. Others cried. Lisa would’ve been happy to hear it all. She’d gotten what she’d wanted and had done it with hooks and knives, flame from a lighter, and even her own teeth.
“A mad woman’s canvas.” I studied Yaz’s reaction.
Her eyes held no sympathy, just rage. I had no doubt in my mind that if my fun-loving hippy Yaz ever saw Lisa, she would strangle the psycho.
“I couldn’t imagine making love to you and not touching you here.” Yaz extended her hand to me, but kept the tip of her fingers an inch from my stomach.
“And here too.” Yaz gestured to other parts of my chest.
I closed my eyes and breathed in and out.
“But, I won’t touch you there,” she whispered, “if you don’t want me to.”
What was it about her that made me not give a damn anymore? Was it that she hadn’t turned away? There was always that realization in everyone’s eyes, when they saw the scars that I was more fucked up, than I let on.
But most women left me after I woke up screaming from a nightmare.
When they left, it made me feel like a burden. Like I’d gone too far, revealed too much.
She didn’t leave. She’s different.
I kept my eyes closed and lay back down. “Touch me.”
“Where?” she asked.
“Everywhere.”
She slipped her hands over the scars. The bed shifted under me as she leaned down and kissed each one. Every burn. Every jagged line. Every inch of me that Lisa had made ugly.
“I want all of you, Hawk.” She landed kisses around my navel. “I want every bit of you.”
“Be careful.”
“I don’t want to be.”
“I’m not easy to love.”
“I’ve never liked easy.”
I held her close to me, burying my face into those soft dreadlocks and inhaling her scent. “If you keep this up, I may not let you go home. I might keep you in my bedroo
m forever.”
“Maybe I don’t want to escape. Maybe, I want you, and I’m going to have you—any way I like.” She released me and crawled up my body, sliding her pussy against every scar, every wound, melding her fragrance into me. She continued her journey up until her pussy brushed against my lips. She smelled like soap and cherries. I moaned, and she moistened on my mouth.
My body trembled. No one had ever touched me like this. She lowered back down and balanced on my cock, dragging her nails around the outline of a scar, delivering sweet flutters of bliss along my skin. I groaned, closing my eyes and shuddering more, right under her touch.
Something in my head whispered I should stop her hands and make her leave those marks alone. They were my badges of survival, yet they represented something wrong in my life and in this world. Nothing sensual should’ve come from what had hurt before. Nothing so erotic should have risen from so much pain.
But it feels so good.
She caressed each wound, every healed gash, and dot of damaged tissue. She touched them like they were an extension of me instead of what made me hollow inside.
“Are there scars on your back?” she asked.
I’d barely heard her. I was so thrown into the moment of her hands on me. “Yes. There are some scars on my back, but not as many as are on my stomach.”
She rubbed her hands over the humps of chewed tissue. “Have you ever considered getting a tattoo over them? Lots of people do that kind of thing.”
No had ever asked me that, not even my family or close friends from my old college. They skirted around the topic altogether and pretend like nothing happened, meanwhile they monitored every mood I made as if I was a freak. I kept my eyes closed. It was hard to concentrate with every cell centered on her fingers. “I thought about getting a tattoo a few times, but I'm not ready yet.”
“Why not?”
“It would feel like it never happened.”
“And you're not ready to forget?”
“No.”
Silence filled the space as she explored.
“They don’t bother you,” I whispered.
“I’m a writer which means I’m an avid reader. Writing and reading go together like two horny lovers. And our skin, it tells stories.”
Unease settled in my stomach. “I don’t want you to read mine.”
